=== Dooku ===
The great warp portal towered in the distance, tearing the sky apart. From its heart, daemons clawed to remain tethered to the mortal realm.
Count Dooku stood among the Masters, solemn and silent, his face illuminated by the blinding crimson and azure flashes that rippled across the heavens. Around him, the surviving Jedi masters had gathered in a great circle, robes scorched and torn, their faces grim.
At the center of the circle stood Master Yoda, small yet impossibly large, his gnarled claws holding his cane. The Force flowed through him in visible currents, radiant waves of light that shimmered around his form like a second skin. His breathing was calm, his eyes closed in serenity.
Across from Dooku stood Cin Drallig, his jaw tight, his expression locked somewhere between reverence and dread. Next to him, Plo Koon, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Shaak Ti, Qui-Gon, and the others, each linking hands or resting them upon the next shoulder, forming an unbroken chain of living Force conduits.
The Daughter stood next to Dooku, while the Terminator guard loomed behind them.
Yoda opened his eyes at last.
"Ready, we are," he whispered, his voice faint but certain.
Dooku drew a slow breath, feeling the uncertainty of what he was about to do. The Force thrummed through the circle, an immense, coiling power gathering in their midst. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before.
Then the Daughter turned. Her gaze fell upon Dooku beside her, and she held the dagger of Mortis out to him.
"Please make it quick." She said with a hint of trepidation. Dooku gave her a somber look, his eyes began welling for some reason. He had no idea why, but this woman… this… goddess of the force before him was so innocent, so peaceful. He hated that she had to die.
But all that aside, he saw the fear in her eyes. Fear of the unknown of what awaited her after death.
"I am so sorry that it has come to this," Dooku murmured. His voice cracked despite his best efforts. "We will never forget what you have done, what you have given, to give us another chance."
The Daughter gave him a faint smile. "There is no need for sorrow. Only duty."
He hesitated for only a breath longer. Then, slowly, reverently, he placed the dagger against her ribs. The metal seemed to resist at first, vibrating violently, as though it knew what it was about to do.
She closed her eyes, then gave a single nod.
Dooku drove it in.
The dagger sank deep, and for a moment, the world stopped.
Her lips parted in a quiet gasp as golden blood welled from the wound, radiant, ethereal, beautiful.
Dooku caught her as her legs gave way, holding her tightly as the strength left her body. Her skin shimmered like glass in sunlight, breaking apart into thousands of motes of golden light.
"Do not… waste this chance…" she whispered, her voice trembling.
Her hand brushed his cheek. Then, with one final breath, she smiled faintly.
And then she was gone.
The Force exploded.
The masters detonated in power. A shockwave of blinding radiance erupted outward, washing over everything.
Every Jedi in the circle convulsed, their bodies trembling as the Force surged into them like a flood. Their eyes burst open, burning with light.
Plo Koon fell to one knee, his mask cracking as the glow of his spirit poured through. Shaak Ti raised her head to the sky, her tendrils whipping in the violent gale of power as she cried out in both agony and awe. Dooku slumped, feeling the raw immensity of the Force crash through his veins, though he was still holding onto Qui-Gon's arm.
Yoda alone remained unmoved. He stood in the center, both arms outstretched, his voice rising above the storm:
"Now… Focus, close them, we must!"
The circle flared with power. The ground split apart as the Force converged upon the great warp portal.
The howling daemons screamed in fury and despair as the rifts began to collapse upon itself, light devouring shadow, order crushing chaos.
And through it all, Dooku knelt in the dirt, clutching the Daughters body to himself with one arm while his other held onto Qui-Gon's, staring at the fading golden motes drifting skyward.
He could still feel her warmth against his palms.
He could still hear her final whisper echo in his mind.
He would not waste this chance.
All around the little Grand Master, the Jedi Masters tried their best to channel the force into him. Cin Drallig's chest rose and fell in ragged gasps, his hand trembling as he tried to stay connected to the chain. Plo Koon knelt, one knee driven into the shattered ground, his breath rasping through the cracks of his mask. Shaak Ti leaned heavily against Ki-Adi-Mundi, her skin pale, her eyes half-lidded, sweat and blood mingling on her brow.
But Yoda… He stood unmoved. Barely breathing. Utterly still.
The Force burned through him like a living sun, and he bore it in silence.
The two lesser portals to the left and right of the main wound were already buckling, their edges collapsing inward. Waves of red lightning flared from their rims, crackling against the air as if reality itself screamed in protest. Yoda's eyes were closed, his expression serene, but his brow furrowed deeply, the toll immense, even for one such as him.
"Hold… steady…!" Plo Koon wheezed, his voice breaking as sparks of blue light flickered between his hands and the Grand Master's form.
"We're… almost there…" Shaak Ti managed, but her knees gave way moments later, her connection snapping like a frayed wire. The sudden break sent a shock through the chain. Ki-Adi-Mundi let out a pained cry, and then he too fell to his knees, his last breath exhaled in a whisper of devotion.
The portals screamed.
The ground split, rocks levitating in the air as if drawn toward the howling vortex. The energy was unbearable now, the light blinding, the noise deafening. And still Yoda endured.
He lifted his head slightly, his ears flattening under the invisible storm. The muscles in his frail frame trembled as he spread both clawed hands toward the sky.
"Close… we must…" he murmured, more to himself than the others. "End this, I will…"
The first side portal folded inward, its edges grinding together in a cacophony of thunder and flame. The moment it sealed, the backlash was immense, a tidal wave of raw warp energy that ripped outward, tearing apart every daemon still clawing through it. Their bodies disintegrated into black ash that rained down over the battlefield like burnt snow.
The second portal followed, its final collapse shaking the very continent.
Only one portal remained. The main rift.
The heart of the storm.
A vast, writhing maw of impossible color and shape, its tendrils clawing at the air like a living thing desperate not to die.
The Jedi around Yoda began to drop one after another. Drallig fell face-first into the dirt, his body twitching once before going still. Plo Koon collapsed beside him, his last words a hoarse whisper that died on his breath before he went unconscious. Ki-Adi-Mundi's eyes rolled back, his hand slipping from the chain.
In moments, only one figure remained standing, a small green silhouette against a sky aflame.
Yoda.
He stood alone, surrounded by the fallen, all their life force, all their faith, all their strength now burning within him. His robes whipped violently in the gale, his cane long since lost, his body wracked by exhaustion.
But still he raised his arms.
The Force flared again, brighter than before. The air shuddered. The last portal wailed, the sound of a dying god. Daemons hurled themselves through in desperation, only to be torn apart mid-leap by the pure, blinding light that now emanated from the Grand Master.
His eyes glowed like twin stars, the veins in his temples standing out like cords.
The portal fought him now. The warp was not a mindless thing, it resisted, writhing in rage as the ancient master sought to deny it its victory. The sky split further. Bolts of raw Chaos fire rained down, each one gouging craters into the earth around him.
But Yoda did not falter.
He lifted one hand high, gathering all the Force left in his frail body, and then thrust it forward.
A shockwave of blinding white burst outward, a column of pure energy slamming into the heart of the portal. The daemons screamed in fear as they were erased.
For an instant, all sound vanished.
Then, with a final shuddering groan, the great warp portal began to collapse. The edges curled inward, its core folding upon itself again and again, devouring its own mass in a desperate attempt to remain.
Yoda staggered forward, his body shaking violently. Blood leaked from his nose, his mouth, and eyes, his life pouring out as he gave everything he had left.
And still, he pushed.
"End… this… I will…" he rasped, his tiny frame quivering under the strain.
The last fragments of the rift screamed as they were devoured by the radiant light of the Force, and with one final thunderclap, the portal imploded.
The light consumed the battlefield.
When it faded, all that remained was silence.
The howling winds ceased.
The sky, though torn and bleeding, was whole again.
And at the center of the devastation, amid the bodies of fallen Jedi and burnt earth, stood Yoda alone, the weight of the galaxy resting on his frail shoulders.
He exhaled once, a quiet, weary sigh before his knees gave way.
The Grand Master fell to the ground, eyes closed, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips as the Force wrapped its warm arms out him, and took him into its loving embrace.
=== Maximus ===
In the distance, Sebastian stood alone, a black monolith amid a storm of claws and fangs. His armor was drenched in gore, his storm shield raised and Darksaber wreathed in holy black fire as he carved through the horde. Around him, daemons screamed and died by the dozens, their bodies dissolving into clouds of screaming vapor.
Maximus gripped his Thunderhammer tighter, its head humming with the song of blood and battle. The ground trembled beneath his armored boots as he advanced, the Grey Knights forming up beside him, just outside the range of his Null aura.
"Let none of these abominations remain!" Maximus bellowed over the sound of battle.
Their voices rose as one, a thunderous oath that seemed to shake the very foundations of the world. Then they charged.
The Grey Knights moved like silvered gods, halberds cleaving through daemonflesh, storm bolters roaring point-blank into snarling faces. Psychic fire flared in their wake, burning through the veil of the Warp itself. Maximus plunged into the fray beside them, his Thunderhammer sweeping in broad, devastating arcs.
Each swing shattered bone and earth alike, daemons burst apart in explosions of warp-light, their souls snuffed out, screaming as he permanently killed them.
Ahead, he saw Sebastian still fighting amidst an impossible tide, his movements were slower now, each strike snuffing out daemon souls. Daemon beasts fell before him, but even his strength could not hold forever.
"Hold, brother!" Maximus bellowed, his voice cutting through the din like a warhorn.
Sebastian did not turn, did not falter, he simply raised his sword high, its edge glowing with black light, and brought it down through a Greater Daemon's skull. The creature exploded in a burst of blood and black flame, and Sebastian pressed on, wading deeper into the horde.
Maximus surged forward, smashing aside a wall of shrieking horrors. A winged beast dove from above, he met it midair with a swing that turned it into a mist of blood and bone. To his side, the Grey Knights fought like angels of vengeance, their psychic might blazing so bright that even daemons recoiled.
The air was filled with screams, daemonic and human, triumph and agony. Warp energies crackled overhead as the great portal began to destabilize, its edges flickering like a dying flame.
"Sebastian!" Maximus shouted again, driving his hammer into the chest of a hulking Bloodletter, splitting it in half. He forced his way forward, step by step, through the press of bodies and fire.
Sebastian continued to push forward. He strode into the center of the horde, blood running in rivulets down the once-pure white of his tabard.
"For the Emperor!" Sebastian roared, and his voice rolled like thunder across the battlefield.
Maximus could only watch as his brother leapt into the air, wings of fire flaring from his jump pack. He crashed down into the heart of the daemon tide, his blade swinging in a blinding arc that split the earth itself.
Then, one by one, the portals began to rupture.
The two flanking gates shuddered violently, their crimson maws flickering and collapsing inward. Their implosion sent a shock through the warpstorm above, unraveling the dark tapestry that had consumed the sky. Thousands of daemons howled as their connection to the Warp was severed, their forms unraveling like smoke in the wind.
Maximus watched, awestruck, as the heavens bled light and shadow in equal measure. The great central portal, the largest of them all, towering miles high and radiating pure warp energy, fought to remain open. The tendrils of Chaos lashed out in desperation, clawing to hold their place in reality.
And then it, too, began to fold inward.
A deep rumble shook the land, louder than any bombardment. Warp lightning arced across the sky, slashing through clouds and tearing them apart. The portal's edges screamed, the very fabric of reality grinding against itself.
When it finally collapsed, it did so in an explosion that defied comprehension.
A dome of white fire rolled outward, vaporizing thousands of daemons in an instant. The very air seemed to burn. The surviving Astartes dropped to one knee, their armor's auto-senses dimming to protect them from the blinding light.
Maximus stood his ground, planting his Thunderhammer into the earth, letting the shockwave wash over him. His armor groaned, his teeth clenched, but he held.
And when the light finally faded… silence followed.
The warp rift was gone. The sky, though still veined with faint, sickly energy, was beginning to clear.
Yet the battle was far from over.
Across the shattered plain, the remnants of the Chaos host still stirred. Thousands of daemons, cut off from the warp but not yet gone, shrieked in defiance. Around them, Chaos Astartes rallied, their eyes burning with madness, their corrupted armor reflecting the dying embers of the rift.
Maximus rose to his full height, his eyes narrowing through his helm's lenses as he saw them.
And ahead, alone in the distance, stood Sebastian.
He stood atop a mound of daemon corpses, unmovable, his chest heaving with labored breaths.
The daemons roared as one, the remaining legions surging forward like a living tide.
"One last push!" He bellowed through the vox.
Astartes, Mandalorians, and Republic forces alike roared in answer, their voices uniting into one mighty, defiant chorus that shook the heavens.
===
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